[J.R. Sinclair]

Syme. 'I'm on the adjectives. It's fascinating.'
He had brightened up immediately at the mention of Newspeak. He pushed
his pannikin aside, took up his hunk of bread in one delicate hand and his
cheese in the other, and leaned across the table so as to be able to speak
without shouting.
'The Eleventh Edition is the definitive edition,' he said. 'We're
getting the language into its final shape -- the shape it's going to have
when nobody speaks anything else. When we've finished with it, people like
you will have to learn it all over again. You think, I dare say, that our
chief job is inventing new words. But not a bit of it! We're destroying
words -- scores of them, hundreds of them, every day. We're cutting the
language down to the bone. The Eleventh Edition won't contain a single word
that will become obsolete before the year 2050.'
He bit hungrily into his bread and swallowed a couple of mouthfuls,
then continued speaking, with a sort of pedant's passion. His thin dark
face had become animated, his eyes had lost their mocking expression and
grown almost dreamy.
'It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of cour